


When the Devil Drives

by Jayne L (JayneL)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayneL/pseuds/Jayne%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny hasn't felt a moment of bloodlust since he died, but fuck if he can't seem to look anywhere else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Devil Drives

**Author's Note:**

> rivkat prompted: "How do you feel about Dean/Benny, blood optional, matter of convenience with Benny maybe thinking it's more than that?" I felt pretty good about that.

They kill their way through a murder of ghouls, and it's a damn near thing. Dean scythes off the last one's head as it's about to tear a chunk out of Benny's throat, then extends his hand to pull Benny to his feet. "You okay?" he barks, a formality; then, vowel spread out broad and casual on the exhale, "Fuck."

Benny rolls his shoulder where the ghoul tried to pull out his arm, and huffs out a short laugh of agreement. Dean starts to grin in return, but stops with a wince: there's a red patch of soon-to-be-bruise on his cheekbone, and the stretch of his smile broke the skin. When Dean reaches up to prod carefully at the hurt, his fingertips come away streaked red. When he catches Benny looking, he goes still.

Benny hears Dean's heart pounding hard. Hears his blood rushing along under his dirty skin. Smells it, hot and rich, beading out of that bruise. Human heart; human skin. Human blood. His ticket to ride out through Purgatory's escape hatch and send the old man in to take his place.

"Don't want your blood, brother," he assures him, shaking his head and curving his mouth. "Just your body."

Dean gives him a hard stare, something appraising in the glint in his eyes. Absently, he rubs his bloody fingertips together, slow.

* * *

That night, Dean pushes him up against the corrugated bark of a tree, presses in close and works his fly open, gets his hand under Benny's clothes and palms him. "What," Benny drawls, feeling his cock fill, feeling Dean's cock riding his hip, "no kiss?"

Dean's lip curls. "Not on the first date."

Benny gives him his fist to fuck. Dean's eyes flutter closed as he uses the rough tunnel of Benny's fingers, hips moving fast and jerky, throat working around low, aborted moans. He's so warm; his heat bleeds into Benny from shoulder to thigh, makes him feel fevered, makes his mouth water. Dean's bruised face is inches away, Dean's blood bloomed up purple under his thin skin, dried in a red-brown smudge where it leaked out. Benny hasn't felt a moment of bloodlust since he died, but fuck if he can't seem to look anywhere else.

"Hey." The gravel of Dean's voice shifts his gaze; he's watching him now, eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. When he has Benny's attention, he turns his head deliberately to the side, gives him his bruised cheek straight-on.

Want curls thick and hot through Benny's belly. Thoughtless, he leans in and presses his parted lips to the stain under Dean's skin, presses the flat of his tongue to that red-brown smudge and _tastes_.

Dean harshes out, "Fuck, _fuck_ \--" and spills all over Benny's hand. Benny licks at the bruise, sucks it, feels the hot flavour of iron swell into his mouth, and comes.

"Don't take it too personal, man," Dean says afterward, stretching out loose-limbed on the ground next to their small, guttering fire. He doesn't look at Benny. "I've been liking the look of every knothole in every tree on the ground out here lately."

Benny says, "Well, ain't you a charmer," and Dean chuckles, and still doesn't look at him.

Benny spends the night swallowing the phantom taste of blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Title pared down from the proverb, "Needs must when the devil drives."


End file.
